


shut up, kiss me, hold me tight

by falsealarm



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 12:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13857921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsealarm/pseuds/falsealarm
Summary: Somehow they’d managed to escape the kitchen before any of the crew had seen them together.Ava almost feels like Sara is hiding her the way they’re slinking through this hall. But in truth she kind of likes being secreted away, like somehow Sara is trying to keep Ava all to herself.[Technically in but practically post- episode 3.12]





	shut up, kiss me, hold me tight

**Author's Note:**

> I've had crazy bad writer's block for over 2 months now so I'm pretty proud of myself for managing to write just this little bit of fic. I hope you all like it. Shout out to my perpetual cheerleader [pirateygoodness](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pirateygoodness/pseuds/pirateygoodness) for helping me through this and for beta'ing. <3 <3 <3
> 
> Title from Angel Olsen's "Shut Up Kiss Me".

They manage to slip past Zari on the way to Sara’s bunk, kind of sliding against the wall as she disappears into the engine room. Ava keeps close at Sara’s back, not close enough that they’re touching but enough that Ava can see the freckles peeking out from the neck of Sara’s sweater—Ava makes quiet plans to kiss them. They skip past two bunk rooms, doors already closed. The Waverider itself is quiet, tucked in for the night with dim lights and a gentle electric hum emanating from the walls. Somehow they’d managed to escape the kitchen before any of the crew had seen them together.

Ava almost feels like Sara is hiding her the way they’re slinking through this hall. But in truth she kind of likes being secreted away, like somehow Sara is trying to keep Ava all to herself.

The door to Sara’s bunk whispers open and Ava hurries inside, nearly trips over something in the process. The bunk is unsurprisingly utilitarian and _unsurprisingly_ messy: with sweaters on the floor and an overflowing hamper and even a set of knives on the desk. Ava spots something red balled up against the corner of the room, situated in just a way to suggest it had been thrown at the wall—Ava recognizes it as Sara’s date dress. She feels a twinge of something sharp up her spine, a lingering anger she thought had already been quelled by a kiss.

Dinner itself hadn’t been a total wash but their goodbye had been—cut short by emergencies the two of them had hoped to avoid—and Ava had been livid when she’d returned to find Sara gone, a ball of fury in a stupid dress and stupid heels. She hadn’t even gone home to change, she’d done it right in her office because it had been closer and her spare suit was already there, freshly pressed. Gary had given her everything she needed to know, everything the bureau _did_ know so telling Sara was the next logical step but _seeing_ her again had been a kick to the gut.

Sara had changed too, had even _showered_ and that had only made Ava angrier. But she was still beautiful, more so even as Ava hurtled her rage, as Sara caught it, molded it into an honest explosion of insecurity.

Kissing Sara felt like a release.

Fighting alongside her felt like the start of something wonderful.

Sara doesn’t hurry to clean up but Ava can feel a nervous energy in her movements as she tries to stealthily tuck away tank tops and dirty underwear. Ava lets her eyes sweep the room ahead of her. Near the bed there’s less clothing but there are more _things:_ a small collection of books in an untidy pile on the floor, Sara’s staves on a trunk by the bed, a cowboy hat on a hook. There isn’t much but it’s enough that this room feels like the place Sara calls home. Home enough, at least, for a woman who’s bounced around space and time and _death_ as much as Sara has these last couple years.

She makes no move to cover her knives. The roll is open and all knives accounted for, shining in the light like they’ve been recently polished. Over her shoulder Ava hears, “I’d be happy to teach you to throw.”

Ava’s leaned over to get a better look at the knives and she can see the furrow of her own brow in the shining surface of them. “And who says you need to _teach_ me?”

“I’m League of Assassins trained,” Sara says, “all other teachers pale in comparison.”

There’s a picture of Laurel above the roll, with a man Ava vaguely recognizes as Sara’s father. It’s been a while since she’s read Sara’s file but his smile is familiar, Ava finds the crinkling edges of it in Sara’s when she looks up to her. It’s a playful smile, _teasing_ in a way that right now Ava unfortunately finds attractive. She finds herself giving in easily, shrugs her shoulders, “I could probably use a refresher.”

Sara’s smile flattens into a smirk that’s more suited for the accompanying head tilt, her entire demeanor exuding a kind of smug nonchalance. “So is knife throwing better for a third or fourth date?”

The laugh that falls from Ava’s mouth is a surprise, a breathy puff loosed between her own smile as she shakes her head. Sara starts to approach, one easy step at a time, a surety in her stride but she’s playing with her hands, fingers lacing and unlacing as she moves into Ava’s space. She eyes the knives, runs a fingertip along the edge of the roll then walks her fingers to skate along the line of Ava’s hand, planted on the desk.

“What? Is knife throwing not your ideal date?” And the way she smiles up at Ava, bright like the sun, that’s what gets them started, what has Ava leaning down to kiss her again.

It feels different immediately, gentler almost and Sara’s mouth tastes sweet like ice cream and spicy like rum. Both Ava’s hands are on her face this time—cupping Sara’s cheeks to tilt her head up and Sara’s hands move to the lapels of Ava’s jacket. Ava hears, _feels_ Sara breathe in through her nose when they move for a second kiss. A kiss that’s a little harder and wetter and Ava feels the collision of it low in her belly as Sara’s tongue swipes at her bottom lip.

They stay like that for a bit, with Sara tilted up and Ava tilted down kind of holding each other in place. Breathing in and breathing out until Ava moves back, tipping a little when Sara pushes in for a kiss but it starts them moving. Sara keeps pushing, forward one slow step at a time, kind of guiding Ava backwards and Ava hopes Sara cleaned up behind her. She imagines crashing into something, falling under the echo of Sara’s laughter, but the memory of Sara’s laugh is sticky sweet in Ava’s ears, she might not mind Sara laughing at her, truly.

The back of her legs find the bunk but Sara keeps pushing, gentle and guiding and suggestive and Ava gets the picture. She sits on the edge of the bed, scoots up until her feet can no longer feel the ground, until Sara _joins her_.

Sara straddles her lap in one swift movement. They never even break their kiss.

Beneath Ava’s hands, Sara’s thighs are warm, muscles flexing under Ava’s palms as Sara gets settled, as she reaches up to tug at Ava’s hair tie.

Her voice is warm against Ava’s lips, “You should’ve left it down.”

And Ava rejoices, smiles against Sara’s mouth and kisses her again because she knew, she _knew_ Sara liked her with her hair down. Small victories and all that.

Once it’s down there are fingers in her hair and Ava licks into Sara’s mouth, finds it warm and sweet. The weight of her feels so natural in Ava’s lap and Ava finds her hands wandering, up Sara’s thighs to her hips to hold her in place. When it’s Sara’s turn to lick into Ava’s mouth Ava’s fingers inch under the hem of her sweater. Sara’s skin is smooth, almost hot to the touch and Sara sighs a little into Ava’s mouth as she kisses her again.

Ava lets Sara dictate their speed. It’s Ava’s usual protocol for new women. She lets them decide how far they want to go, how fast they want to get there. And it’s a bit of a concentrated effort for Ava to give up the reins but it always works out in her favor.

Ava can’t help herself when it comes to Sara though.

She lets her fingers slide higher under Sara’s sweater, wonders if the freckles on Sara’s cheeks and shoulders have matching patches along her back, her stomach, the insides of her thighs. Sara answers with a kiss that’s a little harder, the fingers clutching at Ava’s shoulder digging in enough that Ava moans a little into Sara’s mouth. Ava’s actual reply is a tighter grip on Sara’s waist and a gentle tug that has Sara scooting forward, smiling against Ava's mouth as her hips resettle before nipping at Ava’s bottom lip like they’re sparring.

She thinks this must be what Sara’s like in bed: aggressive in a familiar way but yielding in just the right one, agreeable but challenging. It’s been a long time since Ava’s dated someone like Sara, someone who could give her a run for her money, the idea of it is already thrilling.

Sara loosens up the longer they’re entwined. Ava can no longer feel any rigidity in her spine nor weight to her movements. The tension in her shoulders is gone as Ava kisses up the length of her neck, nosing at the space behind her ear. Sara lets out this noise, breathy and sweet, a keening that flutters low in Ava’s stomach and it’s not the kind of noise she ever thought she’d hear from Sara Lance, captain of the Waverider.

There are other noises too, something that peaks high in Sara’s throat when Ava nips at her collarbone. An answering hum when Ava herself breathes out hot into the space between them as Sara sucks on her earlobe.

There are hushed words scattered between the breaths too: murmured expletives and Ava saying Sara’s name, the second syllable always slipping into an exhale.

Sara stops to ask a question once, hands on the lapels of Ava’s jacket, tugging in a way that Ava realizes means she wants to take it off. “Is this okay?” The sincerity in her voice takes Ava aback, the echo of it sounding in her head.

Because it’s all okay, every bit of it and her whispered “of course” has Sara smiling earnestly against her mouth, kissing her like her answer was godsent.

Ava’s blazer disappears behind her on the bed, Sara laughing against her mouth as they both wriggle to free Ava from its grasp. It was tight on her arms anyway and at some point, with Sara in her lap and Sara’s _tongue_ in her mouth Ava had honestly become far too hot to keep it on.

The blazer’s absence renews Sara’s interest in Ava’s neck, in the line of her jaw and the single undone button of her shirt. One button becomes two but only two, just enough room for Sara to kiss the end of Ava’s collarbone, to breathe hot air down her chest. As Sara works at the curve of Ava’s neck with her mouth—the familiar sting of teeth and sucking pressure accompanying—Ava moves her hands down to cup Sara’s ass, squeezes and pulls. Sara startles a little, a puff of hot air hitting wet skin as their hips connect a little better and Ava feels Sara grind against her gently, almost automatically before she stills, before she starts again at Ava’s neck.

Ava doesn’t know how long they’ve been going at it but she feels light all over, a glowing kind of warmth tumbling around in her chest, batting gently at the growing heat between her legs. Both her hands are pressed flat to Sara’s back now and Ava shifts them just enough that she’s hugging Sara against her, they’re so close now and it’s then she feels Sara start to slow. The space between kisses growing longer as Sara kisses at Ava’s neck, as she sets her forehead to Ava’s shoulder and breathes out, hot and heavy.

All Ava had truly wanted from the night had been a goodnight kiss. It had literally been her only hope for their date. A goodnight kiss she had hoped would be passionate, had hoped would draw sparks but then their date had ended abruptly and Ava had chucked her goal aside. She hadn’t gotten a goodnight kiss but she’d gotten this: a lap full of Sara Lance and the blooming heat of a hickey under the collar of her shirt.

“I like your room,” Ava says against Sara’s hair, “it’s very you.”

She feels Sara laugh against her shoulder, shake her head. “I hadn’t planned on inviting you home.”

“You _hadn’t_?” Ava feels herself smiling, laughs a little as Sara perks up, moving far enough away that they can lock eyes.

“Did you?” Her eyebrows are raised in curiosity and it looks genuine, like Sara is almost surprised that thought might have crossed Ava’s mind.

“No,” the curiosity twists into something like disappointment but there’s also a hint of relief in the set of Sara’s mouth, “I did have one goal though.”

Sara’s already smirking, one eyebrow raised this time, “Oh you had a goal, huh?”

“Just one,” Ava answers, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind Sara’s ear, “a goodnight kiss.”

“Mmm,” Sara hums, reaching up to mimic the movement, her smirk morphing into a smile that sits soft in her eyes.

“You think I’m gonna get one?”

“I think you got plenty,” Sara jokes with a small shove to Ava’s shoulder. But still, her eyes flick down to Ava’s lips, “but if it was your _only_ goal I’d feel bad if you didn’t complete it. I know how much of a perfectionist you are.”

Sara’s already leaning in to kiss her as Ava makes to reply so she swallows her words, closes her eyes and breathes in as Sara cards her fingers into Ava’s hair again and kisses her goodnight.


End file.
